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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=485716" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Anchor</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">As a baby <br>I was fastened to mother’s belly <br>As I float in her amniotic fluids <br>Through an uncut umbilical cord, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I kept that <br>In my navel forever, perhaps, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">As times pass by, as I begin living a life <br>Of my own, in work, in love, <br>In circles of my daily undertakings & means, <br>I anchor myself to some ideals <br>Like <br>Being clean, and honest, and </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Having integrity, principles, <br>Sort of another set of umbilical cord, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though in different conceptions, <br>A figurative sense of the word <br>Or something emblematic, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I keep <br>That in my mind, now, perhaps, who knows, <br>Forever, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The feeling of having to float is <br>Always there, wherever I am, be it in <br>A drinking spree with friends, making love with my wife, <br>Or asking a night with a woman that I just met <br>At the sleazy bar, <br>Or in the <br>Simple study of <br>Some ordinary events here and there, <br>A feeling of lightness for being so <br>Different from the rest of those who are <br>Here with me once, <br>These idiosyncrasies of self, always getting to know why me, <br>This quirk, <br>This oddball, <br>Why am I being different yet so ordinarily elbowing with all, <br>Why this sort of floating <br>Drifting, <br>Like a canoe on smooth silvery river, <br>Dusts floating in air, <br>A white crane gliding, <br>A waft of culinary flavors from a <br>A food plate, <br>A shadow of a plane hovering, <br>This drift, <br>This sail on some seas without land <br>Or anchor, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like when I write poetry grasping ideas, floating, drifting ideas <br>Catching them with the nets of my recollections <br>Bobbing and dangling <br>Trying to find a buoy, <br>An anchor, of weight, to hold things together, to make links <br>Chains to hold on to. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of what I am who I am <br>Who I was <br>And where I am going, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I hold on to faith <br>Hold on to faith, they will always tell me, the priest the nun <br>& the Voice of God <br>And just in case I still float, drift, and waft <br>To tense & terse feelings and lots of pretenses </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I go outside, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Touch a tree, feel its rugged barks, smell its <br>Leaves, stick my hands to its sticky stains, and <br>I <br>Get stuck, I want it, I want being stuck. <br>I hold on, to the sturdy tree standing near me, <br>I hold on <br>Like a baby floating on amniotic fluids fastened to an umbilical cord <br>Or <br>Like a hot air balloon, anchored on some sandbags and ropes on the ground. <br>I am somehow fastened, anchored, I become real. <br>Now, touch me, talk to me, hold me tightly please.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=485716" data-title="Anchor de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="As a baby 
I was fastened to mother’s belly 
As I float in her amniotic fluids 
Through an uncut umbilical cord, 

I kept that 
In my navel forever, perhaps, 

As times pass by, as I begin living a life 
Of my own, in work, in love, 
In circles ..."></div>
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